


Hang on St. Christopher on the passenger side

by 35391291



Series: The sound of the sea [1]
Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, M/M, Magic, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 03:02:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9579569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/35391291/pseuds/35391291
Summary: There is magic all around them, and magic within. It looks like a new beginning, and it will be enough. Perhaps this was the meaning of worship all along.A short story about safe journeys and new beginnings.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from [Hang on St. Christopher](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7kPsrR0Y8WU), by Tom Waits.

The road is open, the road calls, the road beckons. That never changes, even when everything else does. The landscape around them is new, mostly fog, clifftops and water. There is still a storm out here. Everything is sharp, and the air feels almost alive. How they got here, Vinculus couldn't say for certain. The past is still around them, but it feels like burnt paper and it might crumble at any moment. He still needs to dull the pain and the fear and the dark nights. He doesn't know any spells to make life stop hurting. All he knows is the path, and that is always uncertain at best. But they have stopped moving now, and the sky seems to go on forever, wide and deep. Out here, up on the highest clifftop Vinculus has ever seen, Childermass is the only thing he can be sure of.

Right now, Childermass seems deep in conversation with something unseen. Most likely, it's the birds and the North wind. They always have something to say, and they have settled into something close to a routine. Childermass will whistle softly and they will acknowledge him. Sometimes, they might even answer. They have stayed with them on the road and seemed to know it better than they did, so they followed their course over the water, right to this place. For all they know, they might have been shaping the road themselves.

Vinculus has never been a particularly religious person. Neither has Childermass, although one of the few books he owns is his mother's bible. They have never seen much point in praying to something unseen, while there was so much magic taking place in the real world. Still, men like them know to never ignore a sign. So when Hannah gives Childermass a Saint Christopher medal ( _for safe journeys_ , she says) he keeps it. Of course he does. Hannah is brave and fierce and bird tattooed. She knows what it's like, to have someone carry you when you can't walk on your own, and to return the favour once you are strong enough. So they take this reminder along with them on the road, placed where they can both see it. Sometimes Childermass ties it around his wrist, puts it in his pocket, or carries it close to his heart. It seems to help. Life still hurts, but they have found a sort of shelter now, and maybe they will write that spell themselves. And time willing, it might soon hurt a little bit less.

The sound of the sea is the first thing Vinculus hears in the morning now, and the last before he falls asleep at night. Once, the water sounded like a threat. Now, it is just another kind of answer. The waves crash and return, and carry some sort of meaning every time. The sun is a safe fire now. It is like a dream, but not quite. Vinculus doesn't need to scream or run or drink too much anymore, and it's easier to feel real. He takes a deep breath, slowly trying to remember how it's done. Something is tugging and pulling inside his chest, and it might be his heart settling. It doesn't hurt.

These days, they don't need to talk too much. Everything they have seen and felt is their common language, and it suits them just fine. There is magic all around them, and magic within. It looks like a new beginning, and it will be enough. Perhaps this was the meaning of worship all along. Vinculus walks over to where Childermass is standing, with a question in his heart. A flock of birds takes flight, and the wind carries a small answer. Their hands find each other, as things do when they belong together. Vinculus kisses the Saint Christopher around Childermass's wrist. For safe journeys and perhaps, even for luck. He breathes in the sea, and feels it on his skin like a prayer. The sky isn't empty anymore.


End file.
